


got this suit of armor and a sword I need to swing

by mutedrop



Category: RWBY
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, F/F, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26498416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mutedrop/pseuds/mutedrop
Summary: There’s always been a call of the wild in Yang. She’s been a caretaker, a parental figure, an apprentice to become a blacksmith, but she’s always wanted more. When the Queen of Remnant hosts a tournament to find the knights she needs to return a relic of the kingdom, Yang thinks it’s time she answers the call. But she’s not the only one after the relic.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Kudos: 7





	got this suit of armor and a sword I need to swing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic's all thanks to the song "All The King's Men" by The Riggs. the thought's been bugging me since summer, so here we go!

_Wake wake wake up child  
Wake wake wake up child  
Wake wake wake up_

_When all the King’s men  
_ _And all their horses  
_ _Can't find a way to  
_ _A way to save you  
_ _When all the day's end  
_ _Remember me then  
_ _It's not too late to  
_ _Too late to save you_

 _Remember when the darkness wasn't all you had to see  
_ _Remember when a part of you still hoped for what could be  
_ _Well I got this suit of armor and a sword I need to swing_

The Rigs - All The King's Men

* * *

”Your Highness!”

She turned on her heels with precision that had the man following her halt to a stop so fast that he rocked forward before straightening his back. The short, plump man wrinkled his nose along with his hideous mustache, taking in the doubtful gaze of his queen, narrow eyes wavering like waves being hit by a storm.

”Speak your mind already,” she replied.

The chamberlain swallowed, round eyes darting around the old portraiture on the dark walls, as if waiting for them to disparage him for allowing the queen to do as she pleased.

”My Queen,” he coughed, amping up the courage. ”Do you think it’s wise?”

”What is, Mr. Klein?” She adjusted her silk gloves, not truly interested about what her advisor thought about how things should be handled.

”There’s plenty of good knights around,” he brushed the mustache, forming an ’o’ with his fingers around his thin mouth. ”Great men. Any one of them would be the right man for the job. Your Highness.”

The queen turned sideways before starting to walk away again from the little man who had trouble keeping up with her fierce strutting. The long hall seemed like it could consume them, the candlelight hallway otherwise darkened by the slithering daylight.

” _Maria_ ,” Mr. Klein hissed now, calling out the queen by her forename–which didn’t happen everyday.

The queen once mahogany hair was turning light charcoal at the ends as she didn’t even flinch from the name used, the wrinkles growing at the corners of her eyes. She wasn’t the same height as Mr. Klein, but her demeanor was taller; had always been of a proper queen; she knew her worth, and the power she held. Queen Maria hadn’t always been at the position, but she’d grown into it through the years, never letting her morals slip. She had a tendency to outrage other high ranking people, but she never lost sight of what was righteous to her. The queen stopped, again, heels clicking against the marble floor tiles in demand, her straight dress turning color from blue to turquoise in the sundown that managed to sneak its way in from the small windows up on the walls. Queen Maria’s expression hadn’t gone sour, despite her chamberlain’s expectations.

”Why must they be women, My Queen?” the man kept inquiring. He wouldn’t dare to sound impatient.

”Because the dames have the exact same possibility of returning the relic, Mr. Klein. Being a man doesn’t make you a better knight, or servant of the queen. Men can be fools,” she answered, counteracting Mr. Klein’s incredulity with rare softness, eyes rolling towards the ceiling, as if sucked into a memory. A smirk turned her prideful expression to a mocking one. ”Would you rather have a king standing in front you instead of your queen?”

Mr. Klein looked dumbstruck, horrified at the thought. ”Of course not! Your Highness, you’re the only ruler the Land of Remnant needs. Your wish is my command.”

”That’s what I thought,” the queen deadpanned, continuing her walk through the silent halls of the castle.

The chamberlain followed after the woman like a dog hanging its tail between its legs, like a mutt who knew well enough who fed them, remaining silent about the matters for the rest of the night that instituted the day of the tournament.

* * *

”Fuck this shit!” A hammer clanked against metal with a bang as a litany of profanities followed a frustrated growl that could have as well come from a wild dog. Eyes red as the devil stared down on it with fuming irritation; the blade was wonky and crooked laying on top of the anvil, far from being what is should’ve been.

Footsteps neared the young woman, and soon a warm hand landed on Yang’s shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

”It’s…” the man, her father, looked at the blade for a long minute. His eyebrows were having a life of their own, as he tried to find the right words. ”Well… It still needs some work. No one’s a born master.”

Yang scoffed, wielding the wild locks of sun-burnt, golden hays of hair over her shoulder. ”I just can’t get it straight!” She ran a hand against a damp forehead, noting how much she was in need of a bath after a day in front of the fire as her hand came back down bringing droplets of sweat.

The man stepped closer to the workspace, studying the metal Yang had failed to forge into shape. Yang took in the broad shoulders, and the same color of hair that she shared with her father–the proper blacksmith of the family. She heard the man chuckle, trying to tear her gaze away from the blade in question.

”And don’t start with the jokes,” she pleaded, burying half of her face into her palm as she sat on a log of timber, not even trying to hide a roll of her eyes. Yang had been at it for months, but she still couldn’t get a handle on the work. It had never been–being a blacksmith that is–something she thought she’d be doing when she grew up. She had the strength and stamina for it, but forging was also a way of art, and Yang wasn’t someone who enjoyed fine-tuning. She liked to look at the bigger picture. She wanted more freedom of movement; her restless soul longed to roam around, wandering to find wonderment, adventure, action.

Her short temper didn’t really help, when the hammer often ended up being the weapon of her frustration. There was still a dent in one of the logs on the walls from the last time.

There was a comfortable silence, yet a bit contemplating one. Yang was hanging her jaw against her palms now, elbows resting on her bouncing knees. She kept huffing like an irritated horse.

”Yang...” The man, Taiyang Xiao Long, turned to face his daughter, a lopsided smile on his aging face. ”You’ve been at this for months. I’d never ask you to force yourself to follow my footsteps if it’s not something you want to pursue.”

Yang rose her lilac gaze to the man, frowning.

”But–”

”We make do,” Taiyang cut her off, continuing. ”I’m not quitting anytime soon.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a shaky inhale.

”Thank the _gods_ ,” she breathed out with a tremble, looking up as if there was someone she was actually thanking.

Taiyang scratched the back of his neck. ”I think this is enough damage for today,” he muttered, laughing.

”Or for a lifetime.” Yang noted, an apologetic smirk at the corner of her lips as she stood, giving her father a nudge to the side. She had dark patches of coal and dirt covering the freckles over her nose.

”Gods, you stink,” he said, grimacing. ”Please go take a bath.”

”Jeez, thanks a lot dad.” She rolled her eyes, grabbing the leather sword belt from the entrance of the stall that had been built in front their house for the buyers’ easy access. The cool October breeze felt refreshing against her hot skin after spending a long day beside the stone forge, making Yang wish to be on their horse’s saddle, taking a ride through sundown. She glanced back at her father from the doorway, holding up the heavy curtain that went as a door through summer months.

”I think there’s some leftover stew. Make sure your sister gets to eat something,” he chimed at her after a few minutes, talking mostly to a waving hand and exiting back, hands gripping to a hammer and metal pliers of his own. ”And you as well! ”

”Always.”

Taking off, Yang fastened the leather made belt around her hips as she strutted along a cobblestone path through a vegetable garden, passing under an apple tree and taking a few of the fruit with her.

Juggling an apple on her hand, eyes sunk downcast, she had to wonder if her father had meant what he said. It wasn’t as if she was able to bring any money to the table as an apprentice, and regardless, she was a shit show of one. Stepping up to the back porch of the house–or rather cottage–built of heavy, grizzled timber, she leaned against the railing, watching over the mountains that surrounded the small village, and the nearby town about ten miles up north. The towers of the main castle of Vale could barely be seen, even from a straight line of sight.

The forest at the feet of the mountaintops was a dark mix of spruce and deciduous trees, and it didn’t seem to end for miles. Yang could see her breaths turn into vapor as she studied the world in front of her with a gleam in her eyes – her father used to say she had the _call of the wild_ in her, and she couldn’t disagree.

As a child, she’d always admired the men in their tall horses roaming in and out of the village, watching over the land. The rangers–her father had called them–were the protectors of the town and it’s smaller compartments, and they got to ride through snow, mud and summer heat all year round. She’d never voiced her dreams to anyone but her sister; always assuming she would either be taking care of Ruby, the house and or helping out with her dad since the their mother had passed away ten years ago.

But she was in her early twenties, and the world was calling out for her. Day after day, she was growing more restless. When the winter turned into spring, and the flowers started to bloom; when she could smell the earth becoming alive again, she’d been like a cat on hot bricks. But the summer happened to pass in a rush whilst she’d had to help with the garden, and Ruby, and always _something_ , from repairing the roof of the house to fixing the stone forge.

June was suddenly October. Her father shoving her off of her plans of becoming a blacksmith… It almost felt like a sign.

Would she finally be able to take the leap, follow her gut?

”Yang!”

A loud holler woke her up from the fantasies, as Ruby’s scrawny body jolted against her side, jumping up and down around Yang like a mutt puppy.

Yang offered the few years younger woman a sincere smile, ruffling the soft black strands on her sister’s head. ”Hey, sis. What’s up?” she asked, turning to lean against the wooden railing with a lopsided smile. She tilted her head as she took note of the excitement in the silver eyes.

”I want to show you something I’ve been practicing! And also! There’s something you need to see at the marketplace– Can we go now? To the market first and then to the fields at the–”

”Whoa, Rubes!” Yang slapped her hand on Ruby’s cloak covered shoulder in the usual paternal way, ”You’ve been studying the whole day–I think it’s safe to say you need some food in that system before all else.”

”But I can’t wait to show you–”

”Ruby–you need to eat. Or you’ll crash, and I’m not having it.”

Ruby rolled her eyes so hard Yang thought they would pop out of their sockets. ”Fine.”

Yang lifted herself off the railing. ”I, for one, am starving,” she quipped. ”There’s some stew, I think.”

The house was small, but homey, the bare wooden walls welcoming them in from every angle as they stepped in through the front door. Yang walked straight to the stove, tucking in a few logs of firewood and litting them up like she’d done since she was twelve. She opened the lid of the cast iron pot, getting an immediate sniff of their soon to be dinner. Yang took a few looks into the fireplace and moved the crackling ashes with the coal poker, feeling the fire taking off as the heat was starting to feel against her face.

She thought for a second about her future of being a blacksmith before opening her mouth with a tedious pop.

Ruby already had half an apple in her mouth, as the younger sister sat on a kitchen stool at the heavy legged table. Yang glanced at her, musing her thoughts to order.

”So…” Yang started, lifting herself up from her hunkers, before washing her hands in a water bowl. ”I think dad kicked me out.”

Ruby’s eyes widened, cheeks filled with apple.

”He fhwat?” she grumbled with a full mouth, letting her hand that held the apple thunk against the table under her elbow.

Yang turned towards her, blobbing down next to Ruby. ”From the forge, I mean.”

”Oh,” her sister mused, swallowing. ”That took longer than expected.”

Yang scoffed, eyes finding the roof beams. ”What’s that supposed to mean?”

”Well–you never really liked it, did you?” Ruby frowned. ”I mean, why even do it in the first place?”

Yang winced, meeting Ruby’s scrutinizing eye.

”You always wanted to be a ranger anyway. So why not now…?”

Teeth sank into the skin of her inner cheek, as the blonde female laid her jaw on top of her palm.

”I just…” She said it with a breath that she tried to hold in. ”I don’t know. I just thought that’s something people do. Follow the traditions… Following dad’s footsteps. Or something.”

”Yang.” Ruby’s tone was tough, but gentle. ”You took care of us after mom died. You were fourteen, and you were the adult of the house. I think you deserve to do something _you_ want, for once.” Ruby took her sister’s bigger hand into hers, squeezing it twice.

Yang couldn’t help but bite into her lip, furrowing a worrying brow. It was hard to let go of the role she’d stepped into, being the caretaker who everyone depended on. But even Ruby was an adult now, and she got to make her own decisions. Maybe she really could try out something new.

”I’ll think about it,” she answered, the contemplation showing through the words. ”But enough of it for now. How’s practice?”

”I actually wanted to–”

Ruby’s reply was cut off by the whistling, simmering pot.

Yang rose from the stool with an apologetic smile. But it didn’t take long before they had their meals in front of them, and both were digging into it ravenously. They were too busy to talk as they ate, mouths full, but as Yang’s bowl cleared, she glanced up to the younger.

”You were saying?”

Ruby leaned against the stool’s back, blinking slowly in contentment and a full stomach. She opened her eyes with a wild look before a grin took place on her lips.

”I think it might be better if I showed you!”

”Okay?”

”Let’s go,” Ruby stood up, pulling up the hood of her cloak. Grinning.

Yang’s expression turned puzzled. ”Right now?”

”Right now. You want to see this, Yang.”

* * *

Ruby was in such a hurry that Yang had trouble following her through the people that filled the streets of the village of Patch.

”Come on, Rubes! Wait up,” she yelled. ”Ember doesn’t seem to be in the mood for rushing!” Yang glanced down at the black and golden striped, short mane of her large horse with a red dun colored, longer than usual, shaggy coat. ”Come on, boy.”

Ember whinnied in annoyance, trotting in the midst of the people like he had nowhere to be.

”Don’t be a goat,” Yang groaned. ”Crescent’s just going to laugh at you.”

”Yang! Hurry up!”

Yang wanted to roll her eyes to the sound of her sister’s loud voice, but she blew some irritated raspberries instead. Ruby was a bit further along, already fastening up the reins of Crescent into a pole in a bit of a calmer corner of the marketplace. The dark bay colored mare turned to look at Yang and Ember’s way, huffing. The young woman patted the horse on its shoulder, giving Yang a nod of her head that was far from patient.

The excited gleam still plastered from her face, and Yang could only chuckle.

”What’s the matter with you?” Yang laughed. ”Why are we in such a hurry?” She jumped down from Ember’s back, tying the horse into the horizontal pole as well. Ember lowered his head to the ground, nippling on grass, satisfied from the break.

”You’re such a cow,” Yang muttered, before ambling after Ruby who had already taken off. It took a few jogging steps to catch Ruby, before Yang was beside her. ”What’s this about? You’re not usually this annoyingly ominous.”

”Look,” Ruby exhaled, weaving around the town’s people towards a wall of a bigger house that usually had all the news and matters of declared nature of the town posted on it. She pointed at a white scroll with big, cursive text.

Yang scoffed at her sister. ”This is what’s all the fuss’ about?”

”Eyes on the prize, sister,” Ruby groaned. ”The Queen’s hosting a tournament this weekend!”

Her lavender eyes skimmed through the words, but nothing really stuck except from Ruby’s words.

”A tournament?”

”You know, where people duel! With weapons! Swords I think–,” Ruby read the paper again, ”No, with a weapon of their choice.”

Yang felt a flutter down on her stomach.

”You have a way with your sword!” Ruby piped, clearly excited. ”You knocked out all the guys.”

”When I was sixteen.”

”Regardless! Everyone knows you have talent.” Ruby took a good look at Yang, as if emphasizing what she tried to say. Or get Yang to acknowledge to.

”I don’t know,” Yang scraped the back of her neck. Thinking about it made her anxious, but at the same time, she knew she’d regret if she wouldn’t even try. ”What’s the endgame?”

”’The best of the best will receive a worthy prize of their efforts’ it says.” Ruby had finally stopped jumping up and down on her feet. ”I could show off my archery skills.”

”I’m not letting you duel with a gorilla with mere arrows and a bow,” Yang said, muttering under her breath. Her mind was trying to shut down the idea, to hold on to common sense. There might be other women they would be able to fight against, but she didn’t know if they would even survive against trained soldiers, or knights, who’d trained all their life for one thing: fighting.

But she’d wanted a change, hadn’t she? An opportunity, a way to find a new place for herself.

”There’s some scribbling at the bottom,” Ruby murmured, cutting of the rat race in Yang’s head. ”There’s a scout searching for men – or women – for a mystery job for the Queen as well.”

”What the hell’s that about?” Yang crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her weight on her feet.

”I don’t know,” Ruby noted. ”But we should find out.”

”Yeah, right.”

”Yang! I’m serious,” Ruby huffed, giving a hard slap to the older woman’s bicep. ”This is what you’ve been looking for, right?”

”A Queen’s gambit?”

”Adventure! A change. I know you, Yang. You don’t belong behind a stove, or a forge. This town’s too small for you, Yang. And maybe to me as well.” Her expression turned sheepish. ”I’ve been thinking about traveling around, as well.”

Yang quirked an eyebrow at the young woman, who she’d always see as her baby sister; a screaming toddler, or a overactive ten year old, a teenager with too much energy and imagination for her own good.

She didn’t like it.

But Yang wanted it.

_Gods_ , she wanted it. Needed it.

”Okay. Let’s go to the tournament.”


End file.
